


It Tumblr Prompts (All Ratings)

by ItchyToaster



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Magic, Mention of Death, Multi, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItchyToaster/pseuds/ItchyToaster
Summary: All Non-Reddie prompts complied. Each chapter will be rated accordingly and the corresponding tags will be in chapter summaries.Send me a prompt on myblog





	1. Stanlon "I read your diary" (G)

Books. The way they would crack open when new, the sound of pages turning in a silent room, the dust that would line shelves like a thin film that entrapped each novel in a bubble outside of the human world. Each element was a comfort to Mike Hanlon.

Although his worn hands were often used on the farm, when he was urged by his six friends to join them on their escapades, Mike was able to find himself in the arcade, the theater, the library, and the bookstore. The last two were his particular favorite, though Richie often teased Mike about his affinity for the English language.

“There are so many better things to do, Homeschool! C’mon its summer!” Richie would laugh, usually while convincing Mike to go on some crazy adventure within the town of Derry. However, Mike was still able to wander among the shelves of the bookstore with another boy who held the same secret affinity.

Stanley Uris considered himself a man of nature, walking through the forests of Derry attempting to catalog and record every sight and sound that mesmerized him. His room was piled high with field journals and data, though his fear of poison ivy sometimes made him a bit nervous about venturing too far into the wilderness.

But, among the shelves of encyclopedias and novels, Mike and Stanley found their common passion. They would wander for hours, sometimes catching one another’s eyes when looking on opposite sides of the shelves, or when looking for a particular book in a rush, both boys grabbing the same spine in a frenzy, only to look at one another with laughter and wide grins.

Sometimes, when they were able to drag the rest of the gang along, the other five would just watch knowingly, teasing both boys about how they were there for ‘more than just the books’. Though both boys brushed it off with eye rolls and blushing cheeks, they would always be met with knowing eyes from the other Losers.

“Just say something!” Beverly once urged while her and Mike were sitting in the corner of the bookstore reading through comic books. Mike only laughed in response.

“What’s there to say?”

The relationship cultivated by Stanley and Mike was gentle, kind, with whispering voices between bookshelves and excited words, gushing with amazement at particular novels. The passion the two of them shared was boundless, and as their eyes lit up with happiness when they both talked, the other Losers knew something more was brewing between the two of them.   
Soon, they were over each other’s houses, flipping through a multitude of books to gather information on different species Stanley was keen on finding around Derry, or sitting in comfortable silence while they turned the pages of their respective classics.

Their time together was usually at Stanley’s house because Mike was aware the farm wouldn’t make Stanley all that comfortable. But, the young man still insisted on visiting.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Stanley said over the phone while Mike was able to catch a break between chores.

“You can come over tomorrow afternoon if you want. Thursdays aren’t usually that busy.” Mike replied, finally giving in to Stanley’s persuasion, though his hazel eyes and pleading voice was enough to get Mike to do just about anything.

And, as expected of Stanley Uris, the young man was promptly knocking on Mike’s front door at three o’clock the following afternoon. The motion was tricky, considering his hands were filled with his latest collection of field journals and novels he had recommended Mike had read.

He was greeted by that charming smile, the sight making Stanley melt all the more in the heat of the July afternoon. Stanley insisted he didn’t need help as he walked over the threshold of the Hanlon home, but still, Mike was carrying the books with ease up to his own room, a litany of ‘thank you’s coming from him at the sight of the new novels.

“They’re on the shorter side so it shouldn’t take you too long to read them.” Stan smiled, sitting on Mike’s bed while he watched the boy set the novels on his desk.

“Thank you again. It’s been so tough trying to get some new books. My grandpa has me working twice as much because someone else just moved out of Derry.” Mike sighed, giving his guest a warm smile. “I’m gonna go freshen up a bit, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Stanley only nodded as Mike left, eyes wandering about the bedroom and taking in the sight. Mike’s room was simple, coated in a faded, chipping pastel blue paint and lined with hand-made shelves that Mike had obviously built himself. Empty soda bottles, ones that Mike sometimes kept after get-togethers with the rest of the Losers, were scattered about the room, all adorned with different types of flowers: tulips, marigolds, baby’s breath, lab’s ear, sunflower, and one rose that sat on the corner of Mike’s desk, another item he had crafted for himself.

Atop the desk sat notebooks Stanley had never seen before, and his curiosity pushed him off the side of the bed and over to the closed books, stained with dark ink and filled with worn pages. He opened the one that looked the newest, still halfway filled with newer, unstained pages.

A tinge of guilt fell in his stomach as he opened the journal, each entry dated at the top in a neat, but quick cursive. Each page was filled with Mike’s accounts of the day, though seeming mundane, they were described in vivid, poetic detail. Mikes words painted pictures as Stan skimmed through the pages, a small smiling curling on his lips every time he was mentioned among the pages.

_“He likes the same books as me!” “We talked about Hemmingway for at least an hour before Eddie started complaining.” “We went to reach for the same book and Stan’s fingers touched mine. My heart stopped.”_

Stan’s breath hitched in his throat at those words, reading through more recent entries.

 _“Stanley’s presence is so warm and inviting. Sometimes he gets a bit quiet, but the silence is still nice. I really like being around him.”_  
“When we were reading I couldn’t stop looking up at him. It’s kind of hypnotizing.”  
“I think I like him.”  
“Stanley is coming over tomorrow. I know we’re just friends but I can’t help but feel something more. I really, really like him. I think I may love him.”

Stanley’s fingers went cold and he quickly closed the book, setting it back in its proper place. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, and his fingers flexed while he tried to think.   
 _HereallylikesmeohmygodherealydoesIcantbelieveithesaidhelovedme–_

“Hey, Stanley?”

The young man turned to face Mike, who stood in the door with a warm smile. Stanley let out a shaking sigh.

“H-hey.” The word was all he could manage while Mike walked closer to him, noting the change in Stanley’s demeanor.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked, brow furrowing as he approached his stunned friend.

Stan nodded, trying to hide his obvious secret, but  _God_  Mike’s beautiful, dark eyes pulled every secret from him. Stanley closed his eyes tight.  
  


“ **Ireadyourdiary**.” The words were in one breath, and Stan opened his eyes to look at Mike with a worried expression, biting his lower lip.

“You–what?” Mike asked, barely able to process what Stanley had just said.

“I’m sorry! I knew I shouldn’t have but I got curious and your writing is so good and I read-”

“Did you read all of it?” Mike’s voice was soft, slow, the wheels in his brain trying to turn so he didn’t completely topple over from lack of comprehension.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msosorryMikeI–”

Mike’s hands were soft, thought his fingertips were still calloused over. They held Stanley’s jaw with a tenderness that made Stanley become a puddle. Mike’s lips were softer, moving gently over Stanley’s. He could feel the other, obviously, stunned man try to keep up, his trembling fingers thumbing over Mike’s jawline in response to the other’s gentle touches.

When Mike finally pulled away, those hazel eyes were blown wide with surprise, and all Stanley could do was swallow thickly, trying to catch his breath through parted lips.

Mike shook his head, looking down at the floor. “Sorry I must have-”

“No. You got it right.” Stanley interjected, holding Mike’s head in his hands and tilting his chin up. A loving smile painted over his face, and he could feel himself become liquid as he looked into Mike’s dark brown eyes.

Mike smiled back, his hands sliding around Stanley’s waist and holding him close. “So you liked my writing, huh?” He giggled, and Stan blushed, looking away from Mike’s gaze.

“It was really good.” Stanley smiled, eyes finally meeting the others again.

The stories that Mike and Stanley would give to each other were ones always filled with the passion of literature and linguistics, but the real story they learned to love forever was the one they had begun to write for themselves.


	2. Hanzier Fluff Prompt (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Richie comes over to the farm to help Mike

Over summer Mike’s time was spent at the farm, and while the rest of his friends managed to pull him into their wild adventures from time to time, Mike was still unable to leave on a regular basis. However, that didn’t stop him from seeing his boyfriend. The bothersome, adoring teenager would often call Mike, asking if he was able to visit.

“I can help, I promise!” Richie would whine from the other end, and Mike’s smile would be wide from the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. He could never resist the way Richie would ask.

Mike was resting in the kitchen with a cold bottle of water clutched in one hand, trying to cool off after carrying bags of feed from trucks to the barn the entire morning. After he finally calmed down enough, he picked up the house phone, dialing a number so familiar, pressing the buttons was muscle memory.

_“Tozier residence. Lil’ Dicky speakin’.”_

Mike laughed into the receiver. “Hey, Rich.”

_“Heyyy Mikeyyy. What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”_

“Just catching a break. Sorry I couldn’t hang with the rest of you guys last night.” Mike sighed, referring to the previous night in which all the gang went to the arcade. Everyone except Mike, of course.

_“Don’t sweat it, babe. To what do I owe this pleasure?”_

“Was wondering if you wanted to come over. I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

_“Babe your dick is anything but–”_

“Not that kind of surprise, hon.” Mike giggled, becoming fond of Richie’s awful humor over time.

_“I’ll be over in like, 15 minutes.”_

“See you then.”

When Richie arrived on the farm, he searched around for Mike, unable to find the boy in his house or by the barn. When the search in the heat became too much for the city boy, he sat himself down on the porch step, waiting for Mike to come back. He rested back on the step, basking in the sun and listening to the hum of the cicadas and the murmur of livestock on the farm. The noise started to put him to sleep, and in the haze of the heat, Richie found himself falling to the lull of laziness that hung in Derry during the summer.

“There you are!”

Richie looked up, finding Mike walking towards him, dressed in jeans and work boots. His shirt was tossed over his shoulder, obviously discarded while he worked. The smile that was across Mike’s face was contagious, and Richie found himself smiling back at the perfect sight of his boyfriend.

“ _Hey_ , good lookin’.” Richie grinned, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose to look Mike up and down in a less than discrete way.

Mike laughed, his cheeks warming up from that look in Richie’s eyes. “What are you  _wearing_?” He giggled, looking at his boyfriend, who was wearing a ridiculous pair of overalls and a flannel shirt, two items that were completely inefficient for July.

“ _What_?” Richie asked, looking down at his jeans and back up at Mike. “I’m here to work, babe.”

Mike laughed, walking to his boyfriend and extending a hand towards him, pulling Richie up. “Not with those clothes. Besides I’ve already finished.” He smiled, planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek. “C’mon I’ve got something to show you.”

“More than what you’ve got on now? God  _damn_ , I’m lucky.” Richie teased as he walked with Mike through the fields and worn paths towards the chicken coup. Mike pinched Richie’s shoulder playfully. From the outside of the coup, soft chirping could be heard from the other side.

“Oh, so you’re gonna teach me how to raise some cocks?” He laughed, making Mike roll his eyes.

“Not like you need any teaching.” He teased back, kissing Richie’s cheek before opening the chicken coup, picking up one tiny ball of bright yellow feathers.

“Wait is that-”

“Yep.” Mike smiled, both hands gently holding a tiny, chirping chick. “I know the farm isn’t super interesting, but I thought you would wanna see this.” His hands extended towards Richie, whose eyes were wide as he stared, almost mesmerized by the tiny creature.

“Are you kidding me?” Richie looked up at Mike with a smile, inching closer to get a better look at the bundle of yellow feathers. “This is the only place I wanna be.”

Mike smiled, his breath almost coming out with relief as he looked into Richie’s eyes. There was something that he couldn’t quite place when he looked into those wide eyes behind even wider glasses, but whatever it was, he wanted it to stay.

“Do you wanna hold her?” Richie nodded, cupping his hands together and smiling as the little bird was placed in his hands.

“She’s so soft!” Richie giggled, watching the chick move around in his hands, chirping incessantly. The small bird looked up at Richie, rustling her feathers and chirping. The boy gasped, looking up at Mike. “She likes me!”

Mike’s smile was wide as he watched Richie, loving how the boy just melted when he was introduced to new animals. It was so different from how Tozier usually acted, and the rare sight always made Mike fall even more for Richie. “I think she does.” Mike kissed Richie’s temple, and the other boy smiled, looking up at Mike happily.

Richie titled his head up, stealing a slow kiss from Mike, one that cleared away the summer haze and brought a bit of clarity in the suffocating heat of July. Richie felt himself melt under Mike’s touch, and it wasn’t until the little bird in his hands started chirping again that he pulled away, looking down at the creature with a smile.

“Thanks for inviting me over.” Richie said, his eyes still fixed on the little animal. Mike only laughed, pressing a kiss to Richie’s curls.

“ ‘course, Rich. You always make my days here better.”


	3. Bichie "You Don't Get to Decide What's Best for Me." (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen/Mature. Angst, Mention of Death

Everyone kept watch over Richie. His wild personality made the rest of the Losers watch him like a ticking time bomb. One day it was bound to go off, it was just a matter of when. And Bill’s eyes never strayed from Richie Tozier. Not for a second.

In elementary school when Richie would have a fistful of crayons, coloring wildly outside of the lines, Bill would often giggle, watching as the colors molded into jagged messes of different shades and when hung on the wall by the teacher, Bill could easily point out where Richie’s drawing was.

Through middle school in their accelerated classes, Richie would often be sat back in his chair, unfolding paper clips and gnawing absentmindedly on his pencils, and Bill’s gaze would ever so often avert from the board to snatch the pencil from his hand before he got lead poisoning.

“Y-you know th-that’ll kill you!”

Their hushed bickering sent them to the principal’s office that afternoon, where Bill watched Richie’s restless knee bounce up and down as they waited for their punishment.

Richie and Bill were side-by-side in all their advanced high school courses, passing notes back and forth without the teacher’s knowledge (they had gotten very good at being subtle after their incident in middle school landed them in detention). The two were inseparable, and wherever one went, most of the school knew the other was not far behind. Even though Richie considered himself quite the charmer of the student body, Bill’s bedroom window was open like the door to a therapist’s office, one that Richie climbed through in the dead of night to voice all of his girl-related frustrations. And though Richie’s face was only illuminated partially from the moonlight, Bill’s wide blue eyes were always fixed on him with concern, knowing that his watchful eye was what kept Richie grounded.

One October night, Bill’s eyes were locked with Richie’s as a few mere sentences warped their relationship forever.

“I think I love you.”

Bill’s eyes never left Richie’s body as they moved together under the moonlight.

Their senior year, Bill’s eyes always met with Richie’s with knowing, coy looks and subtle smirks, ones that Mike immediately pointed out as the entire Losers’ Club was sitting at lunch.

“So when were you gonna tell us about this?” Hanlon grinned, giving Richie a playful jab to the ribs.

“Probably when one of them finishes after eye-fucking so hard.” Stan grumbled back with an eye-roll.

On the dance floor at their senior prom, Richie’s eyes were glued to his feet as Bill guided him through the beat of “The Wonder of You.” Though Bill’s wide blue eyes were filled to the brim with tears, they never left Richie as they moved across the floor.

When Richie moved to L.A., he begged for Bill to come with him, tears staining the sheets as his arms pulled his blue-eyed boyfriend closer and closer. It wasn’t until he found a handwritten letter in his mailbox two years later that Bill finally packed up his things and moved to meet his beloved Trashmouth.

After moving to the sunshine state, Bill found himself blinded by the blacklight Richie would be under show after show. And Bill’s wide eyes would stare up at his tall curly haired boyfriend in the front row as he played song after song with his raspy voice. His eyes never left Richie once as he moved on stage, and the two of them frequently met eyes throughout the show.

Bill noticed that his helicopter-like presence was starting to become overbearing for Richie as time went on, and as Tozier became more hellbent on ‘making it big’, he felt himself being pushed away by the very man he had traveled to see.

Their apartment was absent of Richie, but an accumulating number of empty bottled took his place. Quickly. Bill found himself coming home to carry handfuls of bottles to the dumpster outback rather than his boyfriend. Richie’s schedule, much like his personality, became sporadic, and it was only in the early, early, hours of the morning that Bill would see Richie’s silhouette move silently from room to room, his long figure ominous against the slowly rising sun.

At first, Bill tried not to mind, knowing that soon these days would pass and Richie would be back in his arms once again. However, as weeks turned to months, Bill became worried, having not seen Richie for more than a few hours once a week, if he was lucky.

One morning, as the sun’s rays touched the kitchen window, Bill walked out of the bedroom to see that familiar figure leaning against the kitchen counter, an unknown bottle of alcohol in its right hand.

“R-Richie?” Bill called out, his voice soft and filled with hope. A chuckle came in return. The sound was hollow, hoarse, and it made Bill’s hair stand.

“Hey, Billy…” Richie’s voice was basically a low growl, and the silence that fell between them was cut off by the gulping of some unknown liquid. Bill walked over to the tall figure, whose face was slowly starting to become visible as the sun rose. As he got closer, Bill could smell the alcohol wafting back at him, and the scent was nauseating. Still, he got closer, arms wrapping around the taller man’s frame. He felt one of Richie’s hands on the small of his back.

“I m-missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Richie’s voice was soft against his hair, and lips pressed to his forehead.

Bill remembered how he had tried to reconcile with Richie, how he tried to pry the bottle from his hands, the drink spilling onto both of them in the process. He remembered how raw his voice felt when he started to yell, and how painful it was to hear Richie retort with his hoarse, broken voice. He remembered how even when Bill reached to hold his sleeve how wild Richie’s eyes looked before he left.

**“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”**

But Bill always had. He always did. He wishes he had at that moment.

Bill’s eyes were filled with tears as Richie stormed out in the early morning. He remembered the sound of his horrible sounding van speeding off.

He should have stopped him.

Tears poured as Bill packed up his things and moved back to Derry, where Richie’s parents insisted on holding the funeral; they poured as all the Losers held hands while the long black casket was lowered into the ground, and they poured as everyone began to head back to their respective homes. Bill tried to do the same.

But Richie was his home.


	4. Denscom “Why don’t you fuck me right here? In front of all these people.” (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M: Teasing, Handjobs, Mild Exhibitionism

Derry was too hot. Everyone knew that. Even living as north as they did in the states, somehow, the town of Derry would melt with the summer heat, sending everyone into a state of permanent laziness. This plague didn’t overlook the Losers either, making them want to stay in the comfort of their air conditioning instead of staying inside. Everyone except for Ben Hanscom and the lovely Bill Denbrough, saying that they had to make their last summer in Derry count before university in the fall. The two sat on the curb in Richard’s alley, licking ice cream cones quickly before the heat decided it was it’s own for the taking. 

Bill’s back was against the cool wall, trying to keep himself from completely falling victim to the eighty-five-degree heat. The vanilla ice cream, though he tried his best to catch every drop, dripped down his hand, the sweet sugary liquid making spots on his t-shirt. The two boys watched as cars drove past every so often. Or, Bill at least thought that they were both watching the road. 

Ben’s eyes watched Bill as his tongue ran over the inside of his hand to get the last of the melted ice cream, his own cone melting slowly in his hand. Though Ben would have played off the mess as a joke, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander as Bill’s pink lips lapped up the vanilla ice cream. Bill hardly noticed until he felt his boyfriend’s gaze on him, and he turned to see Ben’s eyes, which had a glint of desire in them. “Wh-what is it?” He asked, laughing a bit. 

Ben blinked, realizing he had been staring. “Nothing. It’s nothing. “ He laughed, turning his head away to finish his own cone of strawberry. Bill couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged on his lips, licking the last of his melting ice cream. 

“Something wr-wrong?” Bill asked innocently, his blue eyes getting impossibly wide as Ben looked at him. Ben swallowed thickly, completely forgetting about his own desert. 

“Bill, you’ve got to stop doing that.” He said, his voice quiet enough for only them to hear. Bill grinned, rather enjoying how bothered these actions made his boyfriend.  
“What?” Bill asked again, a grin pulling on his lips as he lapped up the melted ice cream that had dripped down his wrist. “Is this bothering you?” He giggled, his mouth doing impossibly lewd things to the desert. 

Ben’s teeth caught his own lower lip as he watched. “That’s it.” He stood up, tossing his own ice cream cone away before pulling Bill up like he weighed nothing. The smaller boy tried to hide his giddy grin as he was pulled into Richard’s alley where they were hidden in plain sight. Bill was pressed against the wall, and in seconds, Ben’s lips were pressed against his own in a hurried, desperate attempt. The kiss was sweet and deep, tasting like strawberry and vanilla. Bill hummed in satisfaction, his arms finding a comfortable place on Ben’s hips, which were pressed to his own.  
Bill caught Ben’s lip between his teeth, grinning as they pulled away from each other.  
“W-what’s wrong?” He laughed breathlessly, his hips rolling against the other’s. Ben’s hand caught Bill’s chin, looking him in the eye. 

“After all that you expect me to just watch?” Ben hummed, a devious smirk on his lips. Bill pouted, licking his own lips.  
“And wh-what are you g-gonna do?” Bill grinned, one of his hands palming at Ben through his shorts. “Why don’t you fuck me right here? In front of all these people.” He squeezed, drawing a gasped from the slightly taller boy. 

As tempted as Ben was, he wanted Bill to feel the tension that he had felt. He pulled Bill’s hand away from him, instead fondling Bill through his pants. “I just might. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grinned, and Bill nodded, eagerly, his head thrown back as Ben’s grip tightened slightly with his words. Ben kept going, hand slipping under the fabric to stroke Bill quickly. The boy against the wall bit his lower lip, his breath quickening as he tried to stay quiet. 

Ben watched with a grin, feeling as Bill started to tremble. “You want more?” He asked, lips against Bill’s ear as his hand worked quickly. Bill whined in response, gripping Ben’s shirt. “Pl-please…” He whimpered quietly. The words drew a dark chuckle from Ben. 

“Well you’re gonna have to wait.” He hummed, leaving a small mark on Bill’s neck before pulling away completely, letting Bill fix himself up. The smaller boy was still shaking, his body now unbearably hot. 

“What’cha waiting for, Bill? C’mon we gotta go.” Ben grinned, already walking away to leave his desperate boyfriend to compose himself. 

“C-coming!”


	5. Benverly "Laughing during Sex" (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oral Sex, Fluffy (Ben is a perfect bf)

“Ben⏤” She gasped, letting Ben rock his erection against her thigh. “What if we get caught?” She whispered, pulling away to look at him. She was only hushed quietly with a slow kiss.

“We’ll be fine,” He whispered, kissing down her neck and stomach again. “If you can just keep quiet for me.” His blue eyes flicked up to meet her’s, a smile pulling on his lips. His hands rubbed her knees, and Beverly let her legs fall open without a second word, licking her lips with anticipation.

“Can you do that for me?” Ben hummed, mouthing Beverly’s lower abdomen while two of his fingers brushing against her wet entrance. The woman’s head of red curls shook with affirmation before tossing back as a finger breached her tight entrance. “Oh fuck…”

“You’re so beautiful, Bev…” He sighed, working slowly. He loved every noise he could draw from Beverly, even though he did ask her to be quiet. He couldn’t help it, and neither could she. He drew his fingers in and out at a slow pace, two fingers slick in her wet heat before he began kissing her clitoris. As he sucked slowly, tongue lapping over her wet entrance while his index and middle finger thrust in and out of her in deep movements, each one drawing a long moan from Beverly. Fingers curled in his hair, tugging lightly at his short brown locks while her knees bent on either side of his head.

“Fuuuck just like that, Ben, yes⏤” Beverly’s head of red curls tossing back against the sheets with a moan, Ben’s fingers being replaced by his mouth, kissing and lapping at her pussy with wet, sloppy movements. Ben moaned against her, the vibrations making her thighs shake.

“Taste so good, baby.” He moaned, kissing her thighs while Beverly moaned wordlessly for more. Their eyes met, and Ben couldn’t help but smile, making Beverly’s flushed face quirk.

“What,” She panted. “What is it?”

“You’re just so beautiful, Bev.” His smile grew wider as Beverly began to laugh and blush, covering her face.

“Stop you’re ruining the mood!” She laughed. Ben only shrugged, kissing her stomach before blowing a raspberry on her skin. They both laughed happily, Beverly sitting up while Ben’s arms enveloped her.

“I love you.” He hummed with a chuckle, kissing her curls.

“I love you too.” Beverly hummed, kissing Ben’s jaw as she rested in her arms.

Suddenly, a knock came from the door, making them both jump. “Hey Haystack an’ Ringwald!”

Richie’s drunken voice cried. “Y’all done in there c’mon we can’t play strip poker without the two hottest people there!”

The two lovers erupted into more laughter. “In a second, Richie!” Ben called while Beverly giggled.


	6. Stanlonbrough Magical Accidents (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff

Bill groaned as the murmuring in the house woke him up. His blemished face reddened as he began to cough again. Slowly he got out of bed, though his rare case of Rose Fever hadn’t let up. As lovely as the name sounded, the illness was quite the opposite. Bill’s skin was red and pink, rashes that resembled rose petals covering every inch of his body. He walked into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around him while he was greeted by his two boyfriends. 

“Like I said, cat claws will do the trick–” Mike turned to see his sick boyfriend, frowning slightly. “Lamb, what are you doing up?” He sighed heavily, stepping away from the steaming brew he and Stan were trying to create. Being sick was difficult, but Bill was always thankful that he kept company with the two magical beings.

“Cuh-couldn’t sleep.” Bill sighed, smiling weakly as Mike touched his face. “I luh-look great, don’t I?” He chuckled as the warlock rolled his eyes.

“Dove, get back to bed you shouldn’t be up.” Stan sighed from his spot by the stove. He looked worried, but he was relieved to see his boyfriend after he had stayed in the guest room for almost three days now. Stan and Mike were worried when they realized their human had fallen ill with a magical disease, but Bill seemed a little happy knowing that the illness let him stay home from work. 

Bill shook his head. “Can’t. I cuh-could hear you both buh-bickering about…” He sniffed. “What are you  _making_?” His brow furrowed.

“It  _was_  a recipe Bev had given me but,” Stan eyed Mike, who wore a cheeky smile. “It’s turned into some bizarre mixture. We can’t really figure it out.” 

“It was just a little pearl dust! Just a pinch!” Mike put his hands up in surrender. “I thought it could use a little… panache.” He grinned as Stanley rolled his eyes. Out of the two of them, Stanley was always the more well-versed brewer, but Mike was still learning and experimenting. They began bickering again, the sight rare and only in the face of magical disasters. 

Bill’s brow furrowed. “It can’t buh-be that bad.” He got to his feet, while the two warlocks flipped through the large book on the counter. Bill approached the bubbling cauldron. 

The smell was peculiar. It was like a bakery and glue, all wafting into Bill’s nose. He hummed, looking to the jars that were neatly organized on the counter. Blindly, he reached for a flem yellow vile one that bubbled like champagne when touched. He poured the liquid in, and the sound made both of the others turn with surprise. 

“BILL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Stan yelled, watching as the dark inky liquid mixed with the yellow, turning to a teal hue with the scent of asphalt. The steam rose in dark green smoke, hiding Bill’s face in the cauldron while Mike and Stan pulled him away. 

“Baby are you-” Mike started, but gasped softly as he looked at Bill. Their beloved human’s skin was back to normal, well, his face and neck looked fine. A smile was on his face, pleased with his handiwork. 

“That wuh-wasn’t so hard.” Bill mused. 

Stan sighed with relief, taking the vile from Bill’s hand before placing a kiss on his lover’s unblemished cheek.

Mike kissed Bill’s auburn hair with delight. “Maybe you got a little magic in you after all, huh love?” He hummed with a smile.


	7. Stanlon Performer AU/Secret Relationship (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, Secret Relationship

The stage lights practically made Mike’s skin burn, his body moist with sweat as he finished his last set. The roar got in response made him grin with delight, and he blew a kiss to the packed arena before leaving the stage. 

His breath was still heavy as he made his way backstage, rushing to his dressing room for the one thing that was on his mind. After grabbing a bottle of water from one of the managers, he pushed open the door to his dressing room, shutting it as quickly as he entered with a breathless sigh. 

“That was amazing, Dove.” Mike turned to the sound of the voice, grinning at the rare sight before him.

On the couch sat none other than Stanley Uris, famed baseball player for the Yankees, looking at Mike with delight. He was dressed in jeans and a button up, but the most dashing thing he wore was the bright smile on his face. 

“You say that every time.” Mike teased, practically inhaling his drink before tossing the empty water bottle in the trash. 

It was rare for them to even meet each other while they ‘worked’, but Stanley insisted on coming to Mike’s concert in New York. Although that meant being covered in a hoodie most of the time while watching Mike perform he swore to the performer he wouldn’t ‘miss it for the world’. 

Stanley laughed quietly, rising to his feet to embrace Mike. 

“Don’t hug me I’m all sweaty and gross.” Mike laughed, still being pulled into a hug by the other man. 

“Don’t care. I missed you.” Stan hummed, pulling the singer into a slow passionate kiss. Both of them smiled at their lips moved against one another’s in languid movements.

Mike’s hand pressed to the small of Stanley’s back to pull him closer, his other hand musing those soft blonde curls he hadn’t had the chance to touch in what felt like eons. The fell easily into one another’s embrace, eyes closing as they felt together once again.

“Hey, Mike we need–  _seriously_?” 

The two lovers practically jumped from their spots to opposite sides of the room, Stanley nearly toppling over the makeup stand behind him. 

In the doorway stood none other than Mike’s agent, the quick-tongued, hot-headed man known as Eddie Kaspbrak. His arms were crossed as he glared at the two men, eyes rolling. “I should have known. C’mon, we need to get you two out of here.” 

They both followed Eddie out of the dressing room, Mike muttering an apology while his agent begrudgingly accepted it. “Remember what we said? Friends. Stanley’s just coming to see the show because of your long history as  _friends_. Go it? We don’t need another tabloid about you kissing your ‘best friend’.” Eddie explained for the umpteenth time. 

Mike was rather careful of how he presented himself to the public, but he always did get a little carried away by trying to hold hands or give Stanley a quick kiss to the cheek. He couldn’t really help it. 

They got to the door, side by side while Eddie stood in front of both of them.

“Ready?” Eddie asked over his shoulder. The other two men nodded.

Without another word, the door was opened to a swarm of cheering and flashing lights, all of them crying out their names.


	8. Bichie Detective AU/Fake Married (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking, Making Out, Confessions of Feelings (kind of...)

His fingers glided across the keys, the melody of the grand piano echoing in the small bar that he worked undercover in. He tried not to notice the eyes that watched him. Even among drunk strangers, his playing brought silence over them. His presence demanded their attention. But, there was one pair of eyes that kept their focus.

The cigarette smoke was visible from the corner of Bill’s eye as he played. The scent of the toxic air was enough for him to know who watched him, more specifically how he watched him.

After two weeks undercover with Richie Tozier, Bill quickly realized how dedicated Richie was to his craft. Not to the one of crime fighting, good lord, no. That man couldn’t give a damn about being a detective even if it punched him square in the nose. No, Richie’s passion was in his character, his acting. And even though he and Bill were only partners by profession and not by passion, when it came to pretending to be so, Richie played the part with all the energy he mustered. The man was a damn good actor.

Bill finished off the song, fingers lingering on the keys for a moment as the sound radiated from the piano. The sound dissipated, and the applause followed, but no one was louder than Tozier.

“Woo! Yeah! That’s my husband!” Richie cheered from the front row, grinning with his cigarette held between his lips as he spoke. He kept clapping until the pianist made his way off stage, chuckling at the irritated expression Bill wore as he sat down across from him. “Got you a drink, doll.” Richie hummed through puffs of smoke, sliding the glass of whiskey on the rocks to his partner

“You know when you do thu-things like that it muh-m-makes it less buh-believable.” Bill grumbled, downing the drink. He set the glass on the counter, his eyes lingering on the wedding band around Richie’s finger. Even if the object was just one for presentation, something tugged in Bill when he looked at it, or the matching one wrapped around his own finger.

Richie only chuckled in response, sipping happily on the sickeningly sweet drink he had ordered for himself. “It’s all part of the role, dearest.” He hummed with a dopey smile, one that radiated the warm fuzzy feeling the drink bestowed upon him. Even though Bill was a little irritated by his partner’s boisterous attitude, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. Richie could always get a smile out of him, no matter how much Bill resisted.

“Duh-did you find any more info on our guh-guy?” He asked, fingers running over the rim of the glass, trying to avoid Richie’s gaze. Bill wasn’t sure if it was him or the alcohol, but every time he looked at Richie, something deep in him stirred, restless and awakened. Bill wasn’t quite sure what woke it up, or what it was.

Richie shook his head in dismay. Bill could tell the case was getting to him. “Sorry.” He sighed heavily, Richie’s eyes filled with disappointment. “I know how much you wanna solve this one, Big Bill.”

Bill nodded tentatively. “It’s okay.”

Everyone remembered about the disappearance of Georgie Denbrough 15 years prior, the reason why Bill became a detective. So, after a string of kidnappings were discovered in Boston, the case was handed to them with a little unease. Bill was determined to right the wrongs he was never able to as a child.

His drumming fingers were suddenly halted by a and resting on his own. Bill stilled, eyes darting upwards to meet a meek smile that Richie wore. Bill’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You look tired.” Richie chuckled, his hand drifting away once he caught his partner’s attention. “Another drink?” He asked, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket.

The notion made Bill ponder for a moment, humming in thought. He knew they had work to do, but his limbs were tired, his mind was weak, the thought of looking at their case file again made his skull heavy.

“Wuh-why the hell not.” He grinned.

“Attaboy!” Richie howled, getting up from the barstool to order a second round for them both

..

The door shut behind them, the sound rattling in Bill’s liquified thoughts as he kicked his shoes off in the tiny apartment they were staking out in. Richie was already stumbling into the kitchen. He bellowed the melody Bill had been playing in the bar earlier that evening. His drunken voice echoed, filled with the smile that was plastered on his face.

“Oh, Billiam!” Richie cried from the dining table, draping his coat over one of the chairs. He leaned back on the table as if he planned on sleeping there that evening. He grinned as Bill walked into the kitchen, humming with warm delight as the man approached him. “You know how to serenade a man, don’t ya’?”

Bill laughed, shucking off his own jacket and resting it over Richie’s. He looked at the man sprawled on the table, his face lit up by the warm light overhead and his dark curls splayed on the wood. When Richie didn’t speak, Bill figured his partner had fallen victim to sleep. He chuckled quietly to himself, letting him rest while he went to the kitchen, debating between having one last drink or calling it a night.

He cracked open the beer bottle, the cap clattering on the kitchen counter.

“Too bad we’re not actually married, Billy.”

Bill spluttered, the alcohol in his mouth almost leaving his lips. He swallowed. “What?”

“I dunno,” The dark haired man raised himself up on his forearms. He shrugged comically, all his movements somehow exaggerated. Bill couldn’t tell if it was his own drunken state perceiving it as so, or Richie’s drunken state making him move so. “ ‘ve known you for so long y’know? Grew up together an’ all that. Before you were Big Bill.” Richie explained with a small smile. He sighed, giving up on his reasoning and slumping back onto the table.

Bill stayed silent, his eyes suddenly fixed on the golden band wrapped around his finger. “Yeah.” He murmured quietly, staring at the manifestation of the bold face lie he wore. And yet, it screamed the truth. He sipped the beer in his right hand, drinking more in hopes that he’d forget what Richie said.

“Plus I’d get serenaded by my hubby all the time.” Richie grinned up at the ceiling, his voice rupturing into a giggle of delight. 

Bill shook his head, a bashful smile on his lips, even if the compliment was out of pure unfiltered enjoyment. He took another long swig from the bottle, afraid of what truths the alcohol would force him to say. Richie raised himself up again, extending his hand out to the bottle that was in Bill’s hand.

The man walked over to Richie, standing in between the man’s spread legs. “What?” Bill asked into the beer bottle, taking another swig of alcohol to muster up more courage.

“Gimmie,” Richie grumbled, snatching the bottle from Bill’s hand and downing the last of it. Richie grinned as he set the bottle down to his left, looking back up at Bill triumphantly, unable to stop the giggling that passed his lips. Bill couldn’t help but laugh with him, silently adoring how dopey his partner looked while completely drunk.

Their laughter ceased, but their bodies stayed close and their smiles stayed put, eyes still locked. Were they thinking the same thing? Was the alcohol making them think the same thing?

“C’mere,” Richie muttered, raising himself up to his feet, his legs still parted to accommodate Bill between them.

Bill giggled, his cheeks burning from how much he smiled. “I am h-here.” He snickered, both hands on the table on either side of Richie.

Dark curls tousled as Richie shook his head. “Closer.” He hummed. Bill listened, his facing inching closer to Richie’s.

“Closer.” Richie sang.

Bill swallowed, moving closer. He could still smell the mix of beer and whatever fruity concoction Richie decided to drown himself in that night. It was intoxicating, tangling with the cigarette smoke that seemed to radiate from Richie if one got close enough.

“Huh-how’s this?” Bill asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Richie giggled, his breath tickling Bill’s upper lip. “Jus’ a lil’ closer, doll.” He breathed.

Bill’s heart leaped in his chest as he finally closed the gap between them. He could hear Richie hum with delight as they kissed. It was sloppy, desperate, uncoordinated. Bill could hear Richie scoot onto the table, the wood dragging across the floor as Bill began to kiss him on the table.

They stopped for a moment, bodies pressed together and their heated panting exchanged between parted lips.

“Bill,” Richie panted, his voice hoarse as if he’d been yelling for hours. His hips shifted, and Bill could feel his partner’s half-hard length pressed to his own. “Billy c’mon.” He urged with a roll of his hips.

Bill groaned, drinking in the exquisite sight before him. That desperate voice and those pleading eyes really did wonders to him. His hips rocked back against Richie’s and both of them moaned in unison from the delicious friction. As intoxicating as it felt, Bill shook his head. Richie whined.

“Billy please,” He whimpered, his brown eyes suddenly wide.

“Ruh-R-richie, nuh-no.” Bill pulled himself away, Richie followed, getting on wobbly legs so their bodies were still pressed together. “Nuh-not like th-thu-this.”

Their eyes met, the statement sobered Richie for just that moment. He nodded.

“Okay.” Without another word, Richie stepped out of Bill’s space, walking to their bedroom silently.

A heavy sigh fell from Bill like a weight had fallen with it. He looked at his hand, fixating on the wedding band once more. A small fond smile pulled on his lips, the gold catching the soft light above the dining table.

He turned it off.


End file.
